


work/time/matter/grief

by soggywormcircus



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, i have no idea how to tag this, takes place during idle hands, warren kepler is an idiot and it's finally catching up to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soggywormcircus/pseuds/soggywormcircus
Summary: Cutter orders Kepler to the bridge and finally gives him the briefing he's been waiting for for weeks, and all that Kepler can think of when he does is that Alana Maxwell is dead.
Relationships: Warren Kepler & Alana Maxwell
Kudos: 18





	work/time/matter/grief

**Author's Note:**

> hi this might be completely out of character but also what if it wasn't?

Cutter orders Kepler to the bridge and finally gives him the briefing he's been waiting for for weeks, and all that Kepler can think of when he does is that Alana Maxwell is dead.

Jacobi is standing next to him as he's flicking through the pages and breathing becomes harder with every word he reads. 

All he can think is _And I didn't even flinch when she died._

He really didn't, even when he heard the gunshot and the _sound_ that came out of Jacobi's throat. He was running on gasoline and toothy smiles and cruelty and the _schedule_ they had to keep, for the _bigger_ _picture,_ and Maxwell was somewhere on the Hephaestus floating with a bullet in her brain just like Captain Lovelace. 

And then Lovelace came back and the contact event crashed down upon them and Maxwell was somewhere in a body bag and one of the crew members (Eiffel, probably, but definitely not Jacobi) must have closed her eyes. 

Maxwell was dead, and Kepler watched his hand burn down to nothing and Jacobi was watching him with a dead-eyed stare and none of it mattered. 

None of it mattered, and Kepler was in control. 

There was work to do. There was a bigger picture. And there was _work_ to do. 

Maxwell was dead, and there was work to do. 

Jacobi didn't speak to him for weeks. It didn't matter either. It was just another thing Kepler was going to commend him for once all of this was over, for making this part of the mission seem especially believable.

When they were still on Earth, Jacobi would never shut up. Even Maxwell would occasionally get tired of him and his restless energy. 

Now, Kepler bit down on his tongue to avoid filling the silence with meaningless chatter on his own. 

Maxwell was dead, and the station was too quiet, and there was work to do. Which meant, of course, that none of it mattered.

And then Hera's internal reset happened. And Kepler heard Jacobi's voice over the comms and he relaxed for the first time since M- 

For the first time since the contact event. 

Jacobi was in control, which meant _Kepler_ was in control. The isolation, the hand, Maxwell- it had all been worth it, none of it had mattered. Jacobi was in control, and they had work to do. 

Jacobi was in control, and- 

And-

And-

And he had a gun pointed at Kepler's head. 

It took him a moment to realise what that meant. It took a moment for him to settle on a plan, a direction, a reaction, an anything. 

Maxwell was dead, and there was work to do, and so Kepler settled on anger, on force. 

'Oh, you complete and utter idiot,' he spat, because they didn't have time, because Maxwell had been dead for so long and they hadn't had the _time_ for it and there's still so much _work_ -

'After everything you've seen, you're still not over-' 

Jacobi shut him up, which was almost a relief. Kepler was almost tired of his own words and his own scowl. 

Almost. But he was Warren Kepler, and it didn't matter that everything was falling apart around him and that he's lost Alana and his hand and was now losing Daniel as well, because it was still there, outside the window, was the big picture, looming over him with a hand over his mouth, keeping him from spilling anything about anything else. Because, so it whispered to him, nothing else mattered.

Jacobi didn't kill him. Kepler almost caught himself wishing he had. 

And then the Sol docked with the Hephaestus and Kepler waited for the feeling of relief to set in. They were- not saved, but safe. Things were under control. 

They were under control, and Kepler had work to do and now he could actually, finally get to do it. 

The feeling of relief didn't come. Kepler had one look at Marcus Cutter and knew that it was nothing but dread from here on out. 

It didn't matter. They took away Minkowski and Lovelace and _Jacobi_ , and it didn't matter, because it was still there, and now it had docked with their station and was right at the doorstep. The good old bigger picture. 

Kepler just hadn't gotten to see it yet. 

And he didn't get to see it for two additional weeks. Jacobi was gone, his mind locked away and his eyes vacant and content. Kepler and Hera (and Lovelace, locked away somewhere on her own not unlike Kepler had been before Jacobi dug him out to put a bullet in his head) were the only people that _knew_ , and what they knew he couldn't even really tell. 

Maxwell was dead, and Jacobi was gone, and Young kept _looking_ at Kepler with those eyes that made his skin crawl, and it didn't matter. 

It would all make sense soon. He'd get to see the bigger picture soon. 

It would all be worth it. 

So he waited. And like the weeks on the new Hephaestus before this, and the months locked away with Jacobi's eyes cold on him before that, and the echoing of the gunshot that killed Alana before _that_ , Kepler didn't complain. Because it didn't matter. He pushed back his shoulder blades and waited for further instructions. 

Now he has them. He's back on the team, even though it's been made clear that his position isn't exactly safe anymore. 

He's here, and he can finally see everything that Pryce and Cutter have in store for the world.

He should feel safe. He should feel vindicated. He should be eager to get back to work.

Instead he just feels nauseous. 

'What were you thinking when she died?', Kepler asks the empty shell carrying around Jacobi's face next to him. 

Because Maxwell is dead. Maxwell is dead, and Jacobi is gone, and Kepler can finally get back to work. 

Maxwell is dead, and Kepler didn't even mourn her. He didn't even take a single moment, and now he finally knows what it all had been for and he feels like an idiot for it. 

The empty shell that looks like Jacobi gives him a confused and soft frown. Somehow, he doesn't stop smiling. 

'It was a setback,' the cheery voice answers, and Kepler wants to rip off his shiny new hand and just have _someone_ next to him to be righteously furious at him, someone he can apologise to knowing he can never be forgiven. 

But Maxwell is dead. Jacobi is gone. And all that Kepler cared about when he still had the chance were the files he's holding in his hands now. And it makes him nauseous. 

Maxwell is dead. And he didn't even think it was necessary to take the time to care. 

'A tragic loss for all of us, sir,' Jacobi chirps on, 'but we've bounced back from it. And everything is going to be okay. Isn't that right, sir?' 

Kepler looks up and wonders if he sees Pryce behind Daniel's vacant eyes, watching for his reaction. He must be paranoid. 

He misses Alana. The realisation hits him like a freight train.

'She was your friend,' Kepler says slowly. 'It was my fault. You can never forgive me for this. She was your friend.' 

_She was your friend, and she should have been my friend, and I should have mourned her when she died but all I could think about was-_

Jacobi blinks, clearly coming up empty on what to say next. 

'You can never forgive me,' Kepler says again. 'Too little, too late, am I right?' He shakes his head. Jacobi doesn't laugh or scowl or even see him. He's gone. Just like Maxwell is dead. 

And Kepler isn't even going to get to mourn them now, because if he does, he's not going to get anything done, and then they'll really never forgive him. 

Well, Daniel isn't, that is. Maxwell can't forgive him, anyway. Because she's dead. 

It feels like the knowledge is only sinking in now. That he's never going to see her, argue with her, make her laugh ever again. 

That Maxwell is dead, and Kepler brushed it aside, and now he knows what Maxwell died for and he thinks it might have really, actually all been for nothing. 

'I'm sorry, Daniel,' he mutters, barely hearing himself. He sees something flicker behind Jacobi's dead eyes, something warm and angry. It's probably just his imagination. 

'I'm sorry I let her die.'

He doesn't say _I'm sorry I let them do this to you._ He's not sure why. It must be true, after all. That he's a coward. 

(Just like Major Littlewood, who Kepler watched die feeling nothing but hot and fiery _vindication_ , and now he's here and he's all alone and wonders if it was all for nothing.)

Kepler leaves the bridge, walks into his newly designated quarters and reads the files Cutter gave him until he can recite them from memory. 

And Maxwell is still dead, of course. But Kepler thinks maybe, if he plays his cards just right, he could actually do something as foolish and reckless as trying to avenge her. 

And maybe, for now, nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
